


Drabbles

by Oo_Maika_oO



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Betrayal, Death, Imposter, Long, Love, Obsession, Other, Queen - Freeform, Short, War, descriptive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-09 17:02:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oo_Maika_oO/pseuds/Oo_Maika_oO
Summary: Short stories that I write whenever I'm on a break.





	1. Charlotte

Story : Charlotte

She looks at me. She blinks. With a cautious hand, she touches her accessories.

Her eyes are full of nervousness, but she isn't scared. She's waiting for her new life to begin, and this is just the prologue.

Am I pretty, she asks. Only the light above us has the answer.

She smiles at me, but her quivering heart bleeds through the gentle hue of her lipstick. She tries to smile again, but the nuances are there. I smile back. I don't like it, but I do so anyway.

"Charlotte, are you done yet? The ceremony's about to begin!"

A voice rings out beyond the mahogany door of her bedroom. Our eye contact broke, and soon she says that she's ready. She does one last lookover and then struts towards the voice, her silky dress glimmering under the light. I stay.

She pulls open the large door, and her maid escorts her to the ceremony. The door closes, and I'm left with silence.

~

Charlotte, the future of Leyancenn.

Charlotte, the queen beloved by her subjects.

Beautiful, wise Charlotte de la Faye. Soon to become the reigning monarch of this land.

Charlotte, the charlatan. The sycophant who convinced those around her to confine me within this mirror.

Charlotte, the witch. A green-eyed monster who robbed me of my life.

She is Charlotte Moulre, a practitioner of dark arts.

I would destroy her if I ever got out, and I intend to make good upon that threat. She had left her accessories on her vanity table where I was, and as the light once brought forth her anxiety, it also illuminated my hand as it reached towards her pin.

She's not as sly as she thinks, and I will prove it to her soon.

 

~END~


	2. Buried Beneath A Wave

There had always been something that drew her to him. It was always there; when she first laid eyes upon his raven black wings, when he first talked to her, and when he first touched her. It was there, as if it knew her deepest thoughts and desires; as if it had peeled her off and exposed her bare. She didn't know what or why. The first time she experienced it, her heart had grown wings of its own, and it had flown away in pursuance of this something. 

Her heart had always beat for her and her alone, but whenever his eyes met hers, it would start to pound. Louder and louder, until she was so full of anticipation that every second they spent in that moment stretched into eternity. What would happen? What will he do? Was he feeling the same way? She couldn't blink; her eyes were glued to his every move. She could count all the expressions on his face even without trying; somewhere along this silent observation she had committed every inch of his face to memory. Whenever he was in the vicinity, her previously invisible presence would enlarge, grow, swell . . . until she was conscious of her every move, conscious of his every move, his voice, his body, his laughter . . . Enough to ignore the little needle pricking her thoughts.  
The cacophony of lives passing by her clipped out of the world as soon as she noticed him; nothing existed between them anymore. Just him, her, and the deafening silence in between.

She couldn't take it. These strong feelings that gripped her soul were tightening around her like a vise. Tighter and tighter, until her heart threatened to burst and her body shook in a futile attempt to contain them. 

She had never felt so insignificant, and yet so important at the same time. 

~

After that fateful incident, she was in ninth heaven. Every time they touched, every time they hugged, every time they kissed and everywhere in between. Her life revolved around him, and her life ended without him. She was a deflated balloon when reality meandered on; and she was a soaring lark when he was around. This time, she cared about herself more; always smoothing her hair, always looking in a mirror, always aware of her posture as if constant maintenance of them would ensure his frequents. And his actions towards her . . .

It made her release sighs that she didn't know she had been holding, but she couldn't imagine a time where it didn't matter. It cottoned and warmed her cold heart. It made her say things that she wouldn't have ever said before, it persuaded her to do things her old self would have balked at, it made her a lowly servant maddened by desire. So maddened, so addicted that no degree of consequences could wake her up from her castle in the sky. The castle with its towering spires mattered, the rays of the sun that bestowed a brilliant glow upon it mattered. Everything else was none of her concern, and she was content to keep them the way they were even though she wished for more. Even a life's worth of words and explanations couldn't describe herself now; no matter what reasons she told herself, they always fell short of their intended meaning when used upon her condition.

But that wasn't a problem, was it? She didn't need words to preserve the way she felt; they were beautiful in all their glory without labels to deprive them of their magnificence. No matter what everyone around her said, she turned a blind eye. No one else's experience could mirror hers. No one else was at the receiving end of his every word and action; she was. She had never considered her own attractiveness prior to meeting him, but it was as if every blemish and every flaw was brought to attention the instant she saw herself mirrored within his clear, alluring eyes. She heard him tell her that she was the only one, that she was perfect the way she was, that she didn't need to change. 

Even when he advised her on unimportant matters, his voice would be like melted honey, and her body would be poisoned by it. Her muscles would slacken, and her limbs would let him guide them without resistance. Just like that, she was completely wrapped around his finger, with him controlling her from ever committing atrocities to those around her, but never enforcing anything onto her.

Like a gilded cage, they allowed her to experience a floating dream with restrictions that prevented her from ever sinking and drowning within it. He the cage, offering a taste of the dream and she the bird within, consuming everything that floated into her trajectory. 

Within the space in the dream was a warm, cosy fog. It detailed and blurred their promise to be together forever. It was there, a constant reminder that her heaven was here to engulf her and never let go.

~

With those words, he cemented her fate; venomous words that drained the dream out of her with all the colors around her carried away with them. The fog thinned to a mist, and dissolved into nothingness.

Time stopped. The world turned monochromatic. Her feet became lead, weighing her down to the spot and rendering her unable to move. Her heart froze, as if it couldn't function without the dream keeping the frost at bay.

He was standing, standing in front of her, but they might as well have been standing with a gaping abyss between them. Just a short length, short enough to reach out but also long enough to fall. To fall, and sink, and let it take her breath away . . . 

As frightening as it sounded, she couldn't care. As long as she could taste it again, then she'd do everything within her power, everything beyond her power, and everything in between. Whatever condition he had for her, she would make it work. She had to.

Because her world stopped when he wasn't near. 

The needle that had been pricking her tore a rift in her mind, and the flood poured in and drenched her to her bones. She knew she had a task, she had a task just like every one of her kind; she served to function for the same reason they did. They had a home, a sanctuary for her. However, there was a problem with it.

It did not welcome his kind. A small, insignificant problem, but it might as well been as big as the abyss itself.

Leaving the broken bird to the ground, the dream faded away. The cage lost its shine, the sky gave way and the castle crumbled. The pieces rained over her, pelting her and buffeting her until they filled the dusty cage and forced her to the bottom to accommodate them all. Meanwhile, the colors of the dream mellowed and left her a corpse. A breathing corpse, with its previously shining castle in ruins surrounding it with no fog to cushion their landing.

All of them, within a rusty cage that had suddenly shrunk in size. Her hand tried to reach out, but the bars grew thicker and tougher until they were squeezing her wrist. 

Her now pallid, bony, veiny wrist. 

The dream didn't leave anything behind. Only a fragile memory, strong enough to slash her and leave scars but weak enough to remain a memory. It wouldn't let her drown herself in it with its warmth. The warmth was gone, leaving her to suffer the coldness of the abyss. Nothing else was there, it was just her, falling, falling, falling. She just kept falling, until there was a mix of numbness and restlessness.

Was she still falling? Or had she already hit the bottom? 

She had never felt so insignificant, and yet so important at the same time.

~

Her eyes vaguely registered something shining in her hands. 

The moonlight reflected off of it, as if warning her to not go through with it.

But she could only hear his voice. Loud, clear and nonexistent. 

Her own thoughts fought for clarity with his, but they were echoing the same words.

Her fault. 

Her fault.

Her fault.

All her fault.

Amidst the white noise, a weaker one resounded. Low enough for her to be conscious of its existence. Loud enough to overpower everything else.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Don't go. Don't go. Don't go. 

Come back, come back, come back, come back, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry what did I do wrong what did I do wrong why did this happen why did this happen whydidthishappenwhatmadeyoudothisdon'tdothistomedon'tdothistome pleasecomebackpleasecomebackIwantyoubackIwantyoubackIwantyouback—

She vaguely registered her hands performing a vigorous action.

...

She thought she was empty inside.

...

All around her, the world turned red. 

A wail resounded, echoing across the plains. The suffering, the torture, the betrayal of a girl, all at the same time. It flowed out, until her life rode upon it and left its vessel behind, lying limply on the ground as if it had never lived at all.

...

~

He knew. He knew it was never meant to be.

He and her, they were never meant to be. Their fate didn't allow it. Nothing in their life allowed it.

He's tried, he knows he's tried, but he had succumbed to it anyway, and he hadn't regretted a thing.

Funny how he'd never known how something non-physical could be priceless, and yet his time and memories with her were the most precious treasures he'd ever known. How funny, how odd.

But they existed, they let him feel things he had never felt before, and he craved it. Just as how the body in front of him had once existed, once showed him new experiences and had once craved for him the same way he did before too.

As painful as it was to admit it, they were nothing more than a visage now.

Even so, his heart felt as if it had been split in two. Just like the sharp knife that had split a hole in her stomach, the color red a black, dark smoothness reflected by the moon.

Here he was, hoping that he could start a new future with her, with the wall called status obliterated to pave a way for their life together. He had planned to tell her that he had left to save her. Funny how he had hopes, he knew she had hopes, and she who had most looked forward to it had been the one to shatter it too. She had been cruel enough to leave him a physical reminder of his mistake as well.

All of his memories were doused in dark red and shining knives. They withered, at the same time his hopes and life withered. He felt himself shrivel, shriveling up his body, shriveling his mind until he could no longer remember what he had originally came here for.

However, he did remember their promise. 

Together forever . . .

Together forever . . .

Together forever . . .

The promise blurred into an impulse. An impulse that guided his hands to the knife strapped to his waist, led him to raise it high above him with its hilt positioned towards the starless sky.

...

~

That night, the moon bore witness to the Great War. It oversaw the brewing conflict between the Angels and Devils, and watched quietly as spears were flung, magic spells were cast and swords were thrust towards their enemy.

Many had died, and the war went on. The story of two people destined to be apart, buried beneath the wave of anger and agony. The intensity within it had fizzled out, and it had already reached the end.

Meanwhile, the war went on, oblivious to the characters of the story lying together on the now blood-soaked plain.

~END~


	3. Alex

The train station was a silent place. Despite being the only means of transportation between my hometown and the nearest school (thus being the most student-frequented spot five times a day), it can instil a sense of yonder in its bound-to-be passengers due to the silence. The atmosphere is always frigid, in both temperature and activity, that your thoughts themselves can account for the lack of noise on the outside.   
You’d think that the people who live in the same hometown would at least exchange greetings, but no, they shoulder past, rush away, and disappear to their respective stops as if that would make their train come any quicker. Their hurried pace would be the only significant memory engraved in any visitor’s minds, to be shelved away as an unfriendly impression of the train station. Even if they were students, they get on and get off at the same time as if by telepathy, and the train would be waiting for exact replicas of the alighted to board it again. Neither the students nor the adults stood out.

Including me. But if I were to prove my experience different from others, it would be Alex.

At first glance, he looked just like anyone else that visited the train station. He waited just like everyone else, boarded like everyone else, and alighted like everyone else. Even his clothing and appearance weren’t any different from all the students around us, but I saw.

He was a beacon. A beacon, ensconced by shadows.

As much as I’d like to say that I knew him best, I also knew that despite being able to remember his likes and dislikes, he was an abyss of mystery to me. There were many things I didn’t know of; no matter how much I talked to him, how interested I was, there was always a little trait that I had missed out. Sometimes they were little quirks, other times they were embarrassing secrets of his childhood.   
However, we didn’t let them stop us; we shared everything about ourselves. Alex warmed up to me, and I him. To everyone else, we were the best of friends.

But, shouldn’t best friends know to watch each other’s backs, even if they still had little secrets between them? If your best friend needed help, wouldn’t you offer help to them?   
Would you stand back and let them climb out of it themselves?

Shouldn’t you always know what’s going on in their minds? 

… 

Now that that’s in words, it feels like the best friend who didn’t fulfil those conditions just became the devil. The Devil’s bad, the mothers always say.   
Never do what the devil would do.

I like to believe I’m good, but if my life was set to be a good one, then I might have just ruined the chance. After what had happened between me and Alex by the train station that night, I had done what the devil would have done.

Alex was my best friend, an angel, but even an angel can fade. And the devil stays, watching the angel fade away as if they were rubbing salt in their wounds. If the devil sincerely liked the angel, would they try to save it? Or would they do what they deem is best for the fading angel?

I didn’t know the answer to that, and I still don’t. I was pondering what to do, but Alex scattered in that split second of indecisiveness. As soon as he did, all our memories suddenly grew voices of their own, and soon my thoughts pounded louder than the starless sky that night. . .

~Three Days Prior~ 

“How do you live independently?”

That wasn’t the first deep question Alex had asked me. In fact, throughout our entire friendship he always asked me questions that left my mind boggled with doubts about myself as well as the universe. As simple as it sounded, a question coming from Alex always suggested that he wanted something profound, something almost akin to quotes from celebrities and he wanted them from me, a nobody. An answer as straightforward as anyone’s answer would gain more questions from him, and sooner or later it would become something about life.

I looked back at him. I stared into his eyes, stared into my reflection in them and did a long and slow interrogation with myself. Meanwhile, Alex let me space out.

“You learn to cook, learn about comparing prices, and just get a job.”

I couldn’t think about any implications that could possibly be hiding behind his voiced curiosity. I don’t remember a time where I had satisfied them with just one answer, and this was certainly no different. My thought process in words wasn’t as meaningful as his expectations (like every single time I replied him), and of course Alex had more questions to ask.

“What about social stuff, like how to deal with people?”

It was near the day of our exam and I was feeling jittery. I certainly prioritized the date and location of the Anglo Dutch Treaty, not whether I could float in the sea of adult life. Sorry, Alex, Google is more suited for you this time around.

“Ask Google yourself.”

Alex being Alex, he didn’t get why I refused to wrack my mind over it. Nonetheless, he left me alone with my colourfully highlighted history textbook.

The day ended without any more interaction between us. We alighted at different stations, and both of us went our separate ways.

~Two Days Prior~

As uneventful as the train station can be, it can’t get any more uneventful than Alex asking even more questions than the day before. Like the norm between us since last week, I had my nose in a textbook and Alex was looking at me again. This time it was my Calculus textbook, and I was cramming myself with formulae. Alex had nothing but free time, which I was very envious of.

“What should you prepare yourself for when you leave?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Alex’s mind was always a jumbled mess, and so were his words even after they had been filtered. What was he implying this time?

“When you leave, what should you prepare yourself for?”

How explanatory. If that’s his way of clarification, then two can play that game.

“You prepare yourself, duh.”

Two more days until the exam. I had a lot of patience for Alex when I thought exams were a piece of cake, but after what I’ve learnt throughout my secondary school life, I can confirm that I can’t snarf down multiple pieces of cakes in a week, figuratively and literally.   
Especially when they were linked to my future college and the quality of education I’ll be receiving. It’s not my lucky week now; I need every smidgen of my non-exhausted mind to absorb all the details I’ve regretfully overlooked.

Alex has got to put his questions on a leash now. I won’t be there to catch it for him even if it strays.

“. . . Alright.”

He’s not someone who’s ever been known to be receptive towards social cues in all the time I’ve known him, but if it had been any other day I would have been impressed he could even pick up a tetchy response.   
He fell silent, and as we waited for Train 703 to arrive, only the sounds of me turning the pages of my textbook passed between us. Even the occasional stomping of polished boots couldn’t break the terseness in the air.

~One Day Prior~

I had been burning the midnight oil for a few days now, and my relaxed schedule wasn’t enough to repent for all the days I’ve spent fooling around with my friends. My current reading couldn’t even be a mark-up of all the revising I’ve done, but Alex was oblivious to my internal panicking. I didn’t even humour him this time, and he didn’t persevere either.   
When we had previously been the only people contributing to the floating whispers in the air, now only its remnants drifted within our minds. I stared at my book as he stared off into space, his eyes as unfocused as his mind. Trains rumbled past as they came and went, but the screeches along the railway couldn’t distract us from our reverie.

Despite the lack of deep questions between us, I received a letter that night requesting me to meet him at the train station at dawn.

~

The moon reigned over the stars that night. She was clothed in a flowing train that spilled over the world and flooded the land, as if exhibiting her majesty over the universe. Her gaze filled the train station with light, bright enough to see dust particles twirl in the air but also dim enough to reveal only the outline of the train station. Despite the gem-studded abyss stretching itself over the skies, the roof was swathed in a gentle but glistening shine, as if the metallic tiles themselves were knights displaying their badges of loyalty to a faraway queen. If Alex had ever witnessed Mother Nature’s grandeur like this before, then I could understand why he would invite me here.   
The gates were feeble, so rickety that it was a wonder they hadn’t been torn down yet over their time of service. The train wasn’t in operation from night till dawn, so no one saw me leap over the fence and into the courtyard. The boards did not give way under pressure, but their numerous splinters pricked my hands as I did so.

My hands now had dents in them, and the moon brought out the contrast. The fence creaked and its hinges groaned as if complaining about its worse than usual treatment. I landed with a stiff thud, and I briefly looked around me to see if I had any stalkers. No silhouette caught my eyes, and only after another sweep of my eyes did I deem it safe to continue the journey.

As wide as the land was, my feet didn’t echo as I strode directly to the entrance. I watched my shadow shrink and pull as it shied away from the light, and took in the scenery of the night time view of the train station as I approached the entrance. The door was open, Alex may have left it open when he arrived.

Above me, thunder roared. I hadn’t noticed the rainclouds covering the stars in the opposite direction of the moonlight.

I ran in for shelter as the first raindrops fell and soaked the ground. My shoes were mildly soaked, but my footsteps rang with the sound of moisture on the polished floor. Without knowing why, I made my way to the waiting area where me and Alex always met and chatted. The stairway was not as dark as I had expected, as I saw light shining from a phone screen…

Alex was here.

With guarded steps, I walked over to him. He was absorbed in his phone and didn’t notice me at first, but when he raised his head in relief, I saw his eyes.

His puffy, red eyes.

I sucked in a breath. Had he been crying? As if by consensus, Alex understood my unasked question.

“No, I’m not sad.”

He tucked away his phone and gestured for me to sit beside him. I did, tentatively.   
Without the smarting brightness, both our faces were shrouded in shadow. I couldn’t read anything from his face anymore. The heavy rain outside didn’t stop me from voicing my own questions to Alex, and this time wasn’t just plain curiosity in words either.

I knew there was a lot going on in Alex’s life after all, which meant that a meeting like this was a mission in itself.

“What’s this for?”

To my surprise, he ignored me. He lifted himself up from beside me, and sauntered to my right near the railway. The red light in the cavern lit up his figure.

“ . . Thank you for coming.”

It wasn’t rare of him to be polite, but the tone insinuated that this gratefulness was more than that. I felt sick, somehow.

“Alex, what’s this about?”

“Oh, I’m . .”

There was a pause. I felt an ominous atmosphere suffocating the air. It became an effort to breathe; my mind was bursting with impatience.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

His next sentence punched the air out of me.

“Will you say goodbye to me?”

As simple as it sounded, my mind enhanced the volume and the many meanings behind it. My thoughts pounded louder than the rain.

“What? Why?”

What was he saying all of a sudden? The train station doesn’t operate at night!   
I didn’t bother to act like I knew what he was saying. He could read me like an open book.

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

He lowered his head to the side, and the light brought forth the storm in his eyes. .

I could tell that this was a sensitive subject. One that I never knew about him, but this moment of fragility was a secret larger than I could have ever known Alex to harbour.

“I know it. I know you don’t like me. But I like you, I really do.”

“I really saw you as someone who’s . . . bright. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there. It’s always been there whenever you were around me.”

He lifted his head this time, and I faced the storm head on. Suddenly, I understood the implication.   
As mundane as it sounded, I knew he was only using terms he was familiar with to describe the hurricane of emotions he was feeling. Nonetheless, he trudged on.

“There’s a quality that you had. Among everyone I know, you clearly have it and it . . it really made me feel happy.”

Another pause.   
His eyes weren’t lying. Emotional turbulence drew him to me, and it was present in his choice of words. I couldn’t understand him, I never did, and this moment was when I keenly felt the space between us.

“I’m sorry.”

“You are a work of art, but I saw you as something else.”

“You were the reason I even continued to attend school.”

I had heard it from him before; why he disliked school, why he didn’t like exams, and why he liked hearing about opinions from me rather than everyone else.   
The other kinds of opinions were about how airheaded he was, and how stupid he was too. The worst part was that they came from his classmates, and they were relentless in their verbal assaults.

“I thought that you would prove me wrong. I thought that maybe I wasn’t stupid, maybe I could learn from it. .”

“I guess I shouldn’t have been thinking that way. I wasn’t smart at all . .”

I couldn’t reply. I felt very conflicted; I understood only the outer layer of the situation, but at the same time I felt wise to know about it.

Alex continued talking.

“I wish I never knew you.”

He backed away from me. Somewhere along the conversation I had already stood up.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have had hope.”

His voice carried clearly over to me, but I felt like I wasn’t hearing anything.

“I shouldn’t have tried to know you . .”

I took a reluctant step forward as he took another step back in this twisted dance. . .

Then I heard a sound that I knew had been Alex’s doing.   
The sound of a train running on the rails. Approaching us.   
My blood surged hotly in my veins, but I was rigid.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, Alex-“

He took the last step back, and I saw the lights flash.   
Lights belonging to the train he had activated prior to our meeting. I knew it was him, just as well as I knew that the train station was always deserted at night.   
My heart sank to my stomach.

I raised my hand, but he did not return the action. He fell backwards, and as if by some dark sense of timing, just in time to meet the oncoming train.

And just like that, he faded away. My knees gave out and I lost my balance. The thunder flashed, but the train was gone and I could only see a dark patch on the railway tracks.   
Where Alex would have been if he hadn’t . . .

I screamed.   
I screamed and screamed, until my throat was sore. 

Alex . .

In the end, he was still an abyss to me, and now he was already a part of it.

Where there had been two people at the train station, there was now only one.

~

There was a train that was moving that night, the rumours say.

Someone was killed that night, the whispers murmured.

It wasn’t an accident, the passengers spoke in hushed tones.

They knew nothing of what had transpired that night; they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.

But I saw.   
I heard.   
I acted, but to no avail.

Alex was gone, and life went on as usual despite his death. He spoke to me in riddles, but now I could see into the depths of his soul.

His now non-existent soul.

Alex . .

I’m sorry too.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t understand you.

I’m sorry that I did what I did.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry . . . 

END 

 

Author's Note : This was a story I had recently written for a competition. I wish I could have written it without rushing, but unfortunately I didn't manage to do so due to my poor scheduling.


	4. The Thorn Princess

Once upon a time, there was a thorn princess.

She had thorns around her; wrapped, twisted, and prickly.

They're everywhere. On her hands, arms, legs, hair:

And they follow her wherever she goes.

 

They're in her view, when she looks,

They cling, when she runs,

They always remind her surroundings of their presence,

And they never fail.

 

Then one day, she meets someone.

A person who shines as brightly as the sun.

The princess follows the sun,

But it is of no use.

The thorns stay.

The rays can burn but not the thorns.

 

Defeated, the princess grieves,

Even the sun doesn't want me.

Without the sun's rays upon her,

She is at the mercy of the passing rain.

 

Rain falls, pitter-patter, pitter-patter,

They soak her clothes, they drench her hair.

I must find shelter, she thinks,

But they are silenced as the thorns grow again.

 

They do not wrap around her, they do not pierce her deeper,

Instead they soar, and spiral and weave.

They cover the sky; the clouds and the rain,

And she is sheltered from the rain.

 

What is this, she asks,

Have the thorns not always hurt her?

She moves again, the thorns follow,

But they do not hurt her anymore.

 

The thorns have become less harmful,

They direct their spikes outward, the inner ones shy away.

They wrap, they twist, and they prick,

But, have they not endowed courage upon her?

 

Soon, the clouds move away,

Leaving the thorn princess with not a drop,

The thorns glisten with dewdrops,

And soon they fall, and soon she looks.

 

In the fallen drops a girl stares back,

A red girl ensconced by thorns.

They wrap, they twist, and they prick,

But, the red girl is not in pain.

 

She's beautiful, the thorn princess thinks,

Who is this girl adorned in red?

She lifts her hand, the girl follows,

And the thorns shy away from both their hands.

 

Ah, the thorn princess breathes,

The thorns revere me.

They must protect me, from outer harm,

No one can harm me if they're here.

 

She falls, she learns, and she applies,

The thorns will not disobey her.

They curl, they undulate, they leap,

At her command, they come alive; at her order, they shield.

 

Once upon a time, there was a thorn princess,

Known for her thorns, but also for her power.

The thorns can harm, but they protect her,

The rose princess cushioned within the thorns.

 

END


	5. The Marble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story between a child and a marble.

I'm still holding onto the damned marble.  
It's been decades. Decades since, and I can't even bring myself to throw it away.  
It's just a marble, for god's sake! All I have to do is hurl it down the river but it feels like my hand is made of lead. So are my feet; as I’ve promised myself not to leave until the marble is gone.  
The marble was cool in my hand, and the warmth of my palm is enveloping it as time drags on.  
It’s a toy. A toy that many children play with, and I’m not a child anymore. I have no use for this junk. It’s just like the other junk I’ve long thrown away when I was cleaning my room one day.  
This particular piece of plastic stayed.  
It’s lived a long life. It’s time for it to go.  
So I tell myself, but my fingers refuse to unclench. 

~ 

The first time I saw one, I always wondered how this piece of glass had something floating in it. Turns out it’s magic, my father grinned as I gaped slightly at the little miracle. In my mind, it was a green dome, and I was soaring in the sky, the wind was buffeting the frayed ends of my cape, my arms were spread out, the limitless world just within the reach of my fingertips.  
It truly was magic.  
I can imagine it very well; that’s why I had a blast playing with it. To everyone else it was just a wide-eyed child poking the marble as it rolled around in a child-made valley of grass or mud or leaves, but to me, I was the centre of the universe, and I was gliding with the birds. I feel the wind’s triumphant laughter whipping around my ears; I hear the chirping of the resident sparrow, the shrill roar of the majestic eagle, and then an opened-mouth smile would make its way to my face.  
I don’t know how the past me had so much fun with just a marble. Children would wear actual capes, run around a garden, have hand puppets shaped like birds, and then play make believe, pause to have a conversation between the birds or run around. There’s the feeling of wind; real wind, even if the birds were just figments of a play. An actual cape, too. Or even parents, that’s just the cherry on an already large cake.  
If any child could do that, that might feel a hundred times better than prodding and pushing a tiny marble around.  
I’m not one of those “any child”s. To start with, I had no capes. No garden to spread my wings; running around got me lost once and I felt more scared than free. No hand puppets; my chubby hands can’t find their way around a needle, nor were there any needles in the house.  
Maybe my father could have bought all of that for me, or just used some second-hand products to craft the outline and let my imagination create a story for me. A parent would at least grant their child that much, right?  
Not my father, nor my mother.  
The marble was the only physical gift I received that was for me and me alone. That, and a dog named Cheng Wong that chewed through everything.  
Cheng Wong was just nice to touch but not nice to play with. It was like he was constantly over the roof and needed to share the excitement, which translated into bites and thrashing any inanimate object or human that happened to be within his line of sight. If he wasn’t chewing through something then he was swallowing something; like the old leash that was supposed to be around his neck, or that one little bug that he spat out in time. I wonder what his nose told him every time he sniffed something and then instantly decided he could sink his teeth into it. He always turned out to be healthy so we didn’t mind him much.  
One day Cheng Wong swallowed my marble. It was either he didn’t get it out in time or no one noticed ( I hated being bitten by sharp canine teeth and my parents never checked him ), but one day he just left and then there was the report of a dead body resembling Cheng Wong by a river. Mother was shocked, since the monthly X-ray checks had no negative results.  
Needless to say, that dog left with my marble but I was given a new one. Unfortunately, I was too old to be satisfied by such a small world by the time it reached me. 

~

So here I am. Marble in one hand, conflict in the other, and I’m still at the river. I’ve been here so many times and each time I’ve always returned home with the cursed marble.  
Today is another day by the standard. I feel the grip of nostalgia, and I know it is weakening. I’ll keep bringing this marble, and one day I’ll be able to make the throw.  
I spin on my heel, walking back the way I came with the marble.


End file.
